Breaking Regular
by The Silver Wordsman
Summary: When Mordecai discovers an illness limits his life, he wants nothing more than to go out with style (a buffalo wing-eating, video game-playing marathon), and gratitude as he wishes to pay his girlfriend Margaret back for his dependency on her. In the pursuit of money, the innocent deathwish becomes the deadly business of cooking an illegal wing flavor. A Breaking Bad AU parody.


**Disclaimer: I do not own** ** _Regular Show_** **or** ** _Breaking Bad_** **.**

 **A/N: Hey guys! I'm a huge fan of** ** _Regular Show_** **. The humor, random adventures...everything. The show is really out there (is it just me, or does it have tons of drug/alcohol references?), and some of the episodes reminded me a lot of** ** _Breaking Bad_** **(another awesome show).**

 **So why not combine the two? I've been writing this retelling of** ** _Breaking Bad_** **for a while, trying to balance the humor and darkness of both shows. I've finally found the courage to post this. Hope you like it.**

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A searing desert sun distorted craggy canyons and cacti with waves of heat. The arid landscape was secluded...except for the RV that kicked up clouds of dust as it twisted through dirt roads. A green hoodie hung from a hanger on the vehicle's side-view mirror, violently beating against its surface as it picked up the wind. The driver of the RV, Mordecai, struggled to see past the layer of dust that clouded the lens of the gas mask strapped over his face and beak. He stole a brief glance at the vehicle's passenger seat to see Rigby's body slumped over, unconscious, a gas mask hugging his face; the rocky terrain of the road thrashed his body against his seatbelt like a demented, lifeless doll.

Mordecai was breathing heavily, eyes strained with focus on the landscape, his wings gripping the steering wheel with enough strength to tear the feathers from them. Glass shattered somewhere deep in the RV and he whipped his head behind his seat to see the unconscious bodies and miscellaneous items there sliding around on the tiled floor. With his attention back on the road, Mordecai regained focus as the RV bounced against the path. Once. Twice. Everything in the RV rattled from the aftershock. The shattering of more glass earned another glance from behind the driver's seat, only to be interrupted when Mordecai's grip began to loosen on the wheel.

It was bird versus machine as Mordecai fought with the wheel to keep the RV steady; the end of the vehicle fishtailed, and his vision grew blurry with a layer of condensation that fogged his gas mask lens. One of Mordecai's wings held onto the wheel while the other frantically wiped at the lens that obscured his vision. But it was too late. Mordecai lost control of the RV, swerving off-road through sparse foliage before landing in a ditch. What the H.

The RV door swung open and Mordecai stumbled over the orange liquid that dripped past the doorway under his feet onto the desert sand. Doubling over, he coughed viciously for a moment. He then ripped off the gas mask, panting. Fresh air never felt so good. His head throbbed, sore from a small cut high on his temple. "Ughhh!" He screamed when he caught his breath. There was no way he'd escape now. Fed up with the shrinking list of options for his situation, Mordecai tossed his gas mask far into the desert and ran his hands through the feathers on top of his head. Why couldn't he keep the stupid RV on the road?

Faint sounds rising from the distant canyons forced Mordecai to pause his session of self-deprecation. Sounds belonging to _police sirens_.

"Ahh! The police!" Mordecai stared in the direction of the sound in complete horror. "I'm too young to go to jail!" He began to hyperventilate. "What do I do? What do I _do_? Okay. Okay okay okay. Just think, Mordo...You got this." An idea suddenly came to his mind, and he smiled. Rushing over to the hoodie that somehow survived the RV's plight, he snatched it off the hanger and pulled it over his wings. Maybe he could tell the police he was actually out camping? That he cut the wheel to avoid hitting a squirrel—no, a jackrabbit—and ended up in a ditch? Yeah, that sounded legit. Uh...Nope. It was anything but convincing.

"...Plan B. Definitely Plan B." Mordecai took in a big breath of air, holding it in his cheeks as he prepared himself to face the toxic fumes enclosed in the RV. He dashed back through the vehicle's doorway and to the bodies lying face down on the floor. Wincing, Mordecai searched one of the bodies, removing a gun. He slipped the gun in a pocket of his hoodie, moving to the front of the vehicle. Once there, he briefly assessed the damage. A clutter of items. Rigby leaning forward in his seat, his masked face pressing into the dashboard. Mordecai stretched his feathered fingers over Rigby's mask and shoved him out of the way; the drawer beside Rigby was his intended target.

In the drawer was a small camcorder and a wallet which Mordecai grabbed fervently. He nodded to himself, a sign that he was all set. Commencing Plan B. The blue jay ran out of the RV, hacking out his lungs for all they were worth. At least he survived. With a wipe of his mouth, Mordecai looked back at the source of the sirens, where they grew in intensity. The police were gaining on them. Crap.

"C'mon...focus." Mordecai told himself as he fiddled with the camcorder, checking it for a tape. Upon finding a tape, he pressed the record button, regained his senses, and turned the camera on himself. "I'm Mordecai. I live with my girlfriend, Margaret, in her apartment." The blue jay let out a chuckle, "If you're the police, don't think this is some confession, because that'd be totally lame. So...yeah...let me give a shoutout to some important people. " Mordecai covered the camcorder lens with his wing for a few seconds. He removed it and refocused the camera, "Hey, Margaret. I...I love you. And John...um...you're a cool dude to have as a roommate, I guess. Anyway, you guys are going to hear stuff about me soon. And you're not going to like it. But Margaret...I did all of this stuff for you, okay?"

The police sirens sound again. Mordecai snapped out of his reverie and gave the sirens behind him a glance. He was done for; with a sigh, he told the camcorder with teary eyes: "Goodbye, Margaret. And you too, John. Yeah." He swiftly turned off the camcorder, lying it on the ground alongside his open wallet. The last words and identity of Mordecai the blue jay.

"Dude. This is really it..." Mordecai stood there, struck by the finality of it all. Once more he looked over his shoulder at the police who have yet to show up, and figured he still had time for one last thing. "I'm not leaving this world without a fight." Taking a deep breath, he walks past the back of the RV, pulling the gun out of his hoodie pocket.

Mordecai went through the motions of climbing the dusty hill he drove over moments earlier, removing himself from the ditch and back on the main road. He stood there with the gun at his side; after this, there was no turning back. Whatever.

"Time to face the music." Mordecai held up the gun with a shaky wing towards the approaching sirens, prepared to take anyone down.


End file.
